(++++) BEGINNINGS AND CONTINUATIONS
Composers’ earlier works can sometimes be as interesting in showing the directions in which they did not go as in providing youthful examples of how their creators later developed. Thus, Scriabin’s Piano Sonata No. 1 (actually the third he composed, but the first one that survives as a full-scale multi-movement piece) is built around a deeply sad Adagio and concluding Funèbre, in both of which the composer laments the loss of his performance ability because of what doctors had told him was permanent damage to his right hand (caused by overuse in practicing). The faster first and third movements do little to relieve the sense of despair, the first being melancholy and turbulent, the third harsh, angry and unresolved at its conclusion. The intensity of the work comes through quite poignantly in a new performance by Zixiang Wang on the Blue Griffin Recording label. Wang not only has technique to spare but also possesses an unerring sense of how to bring out the music’s anger and anguish without making it sound so over-the-top as to be melodramatic. Yet the passion and bleakness of this sonata did not portend future works of the same type from Scriabin: he actually recovered the use of his right hand, although he did not return to the virtuoso-performance circuit, and his later sonatas explore territory that is quite different from that in his first.
Rachmaninoff’s Piano Sonata No. 1 is also tied at most loosely to his later work. Its sprawl and large scope – its three movements last significantly longer than the four used by Scriabin – do look ahead to Rachmaninoff’s later music, as does the frequent use of the Dies irae motif; and the conclusion of the sonata is replete with pounding chords that are recognizable as a kind of Rachmaninoff compositional signature. But the work is otherwise something of a dead end in the composer’s oeuvre. Its three movements were going to represent the three main characters from Goethe’s Faust: the title character, Gretchen, and Mephistopheles. The sonata retains some elements of that original program, which closely parallels that of Liszt’s Faust Symphony, but Rachmaninoff abandoned the structure in favor of something non-programmatic. The first and third movements, both in D minor, are drawn-out and very close to the same length, while the central Lento in F is filled with extended melodic lines that contrast strongly with a finale that, unlike later Rachmaninoff, is almost devoid of significant themes. The sonata as a whole is somewhat diffuse and even self-indulgent in its exploitation of the extremes of pianistic capability – in terms of the instrument itself, not just the performer. Here as in the Scriabin, Wang handles the virtuosic elements with aplomb, but he is less successful in trying to wrest some coherence and overall sensibility from the Rachmaninoff than from the Scriabin. The Rachmaninoff is a difficult piece both to play and to hear, and certainly Wang’s handling of it shows considerable skill and a thoughtful approach to the music. But as a whole, his reading is less convincing than is his handling of Scriabin’s sonata.
As an encore, Wang offers an even earlier Rachmaninoff work, and a much rarer one to hear: the solo-piano version of the Prelude in F, which is much better known in its cello-and-piano version (Op. 2, No. 1). Calm and borderline sweet, this 1891 version of the prelude, written when the composer was 18, sounds little like mature Rachmaninoff. But it makes an effective contrast with the huge Sonata No. 1, while also letting listeners hear the road not traveled in the composer’s later work.